Son of Lynley: Illumination
by Mejhiren
Summary: Sequel to Sins of the Father. Lynley and Havers return to London with Tom Crawford, but what repercussions await them there? Rated M for subject matter and a bit of content down the road.
1. Christmas Shopping

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Episode 2: "Illumination"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.  
****ALSO:** While the theological college depicted in this episode is strongly based on Oak Hill College, which I had the pleasure of attending for the fall semester of 2000, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, real stores, or real educational facilities is purely coincidental.

**SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING EPISODE **(for lazy or impatient folks)**: **Lynley and Havers go to Oxford to investigate the murder of the owner of an art gallery at which Adele Crawford, a local artist, was about to make her career debut. Lynley and Adele had had a brief romantic liaison about 25 years previous, resulting in a son, Thomas Crawford, now a Detective Constable set to transfer to the Met, who develops an almost instant rapport with Havers. Previously unaware of his son's existence, though impressed by Thomas Crawford's detective skills, Lynley learns the truth from Adele in the midst of rekindling their youthful romance; after the requisite feelings of betrayal and frustration, he makes plans to bring Adele and Thomas back to London with him at the close of the case. The next day sees an appalled (and jealous?) Havers squiring Adele about the city and forming a grudging friendship with her. The gallery opens with full police protection on site, though the killer is already thought to be in custody; instead, the killer proves to be Adele's father, who comes to the gallery to act on his lifelong hatred of Lynley. Adele takes the bullet meant for Lynley and dies, leaving behind a shattered Thomas, who despises Lynley for his behavior toward Adele and blames him for her death. Havers attempts to reconcile the two as a go-between, and at the end of the episode, Thomas joins Lynley and Havers on their drive back to London.

**CASTING NOTES FOR THIS EPISODE: **Lynley and Havers remain the obvious with Christian Coulson as Tom Crawford, and as Hillier, Nkata, Lafferty, and even Azhar make an appearance in this episode, _do_ continue to envision them as Tim Frances, Shaun Parkes, Paul Hickey, and Tanveer Ghani, respectively. As for the new characters in this episode, Richard and Millicent Williams are – indeed, have been from the earliest drafts - Charles Dance and Miranda Richardson (devil take the age difference; they make a perfectly matched pair of posh clergy!). Julia Hanover is Sophie Winkleman, Elinor Hanover is Laura Donnelly, and Gareth Robson is Keith Harkin (yes, from Celtic Thunder. I know he's not an actor, at least not yet, but from about the second hour of Gareth's existence, he was Keith). The rest – particularly Megan Hanover - I haven't been able to cast to my satisfaction, so if you have any suggestions, _do_ let me know! I've spent the last two years trying to track down a fitting screen version of her!

**INT. LONDON. SOUTHGATE. CHASE SIDE ANTIQUES (SHOP) – EARLY EVENING.  
****DECEMBER, PRESENT DAY.**

_JULIA HANOVER, 35, slender and piquant, with long, glossy dark brown hair, is draping thin sheets over her displays for the night. She is dressed youthfully – but not inappropriately so – in a black tunic, leggings, and a cropped purple cardigan, finely crocheted and tied at the bustline. The shop is smallish and slightly cramped with treasures, but there is an elegant hominess about it. The light illuming the shop, including several strings of fairy lights framing the front windows, is soft and golden, and the strains of symphonic Christmas music can just be discerned from the vicinity of the register, where sit an iPod dock with two tiny speakers._

_The curtain leading to the back of the shop is edged to one side as ALICE, 19, comes out, jacket in hand._

ALICE  
Are you sure you can finish the rest, ma'am?

JULIA  
_(affectionately)  
_Of course, love. What with it being so quiet –

_The shop door opens with the peal of a bell, admitting MILLICENT WILLIAMS, a starkly handsome woman with shoulder-length silver-blonde hair and a pale, ageless face. She carries herself with a boneless grace and her apparel – notably, a dark wool peacoat and black trousers – are sharply tailored to accentuate both her height and slimness. JULIA looks up from her draping and gives a little gasp._

JULIA  
Sorry, ma'am, you gave me a bit of a start.

_MILLICENT frowns delicately, assessing the draped displays and ALICE's anticipated departure in a glance._

MILLICENT  
Are you closed?

_JULIA gives a smile that is at once apologetic and encouraging._

JULIA  
Very nearly, but it's never too late. Were you looking for something in particular, ma'am?

MILLICENT  
_(coolly, though her eyes are keen)  
_Yes, as a matter of fact. I wanted a Christmas gift for my brother.

_JULIA's smile warms._

JULIA  
I've just the thing.

_Before she can begin the pursuit, ALICE pipes up, so as not to be forgotten._

ALICE  
Will you be needing me, Mrs. Hanover?

_MILLICENT's eyes flicker between ALICE and JULIA at this, though neither notices._

ALICE, CONT.  
Only I was hoping to catch the seven –

JULIA  
_(pleasantly reassuring)  
_By all means, Alice – go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow.  
_(to MILLICENT)  
_Now, madam, if you'd like to step this way…

_ALICE puts on her coat and slips out of the shop as JULIA leads MILLICENT to a draped display case. JULIA pulls up the drape and unlocks the glass with a key on a lanyard at her neck, then draws out a black velvet tray of old gold jewelry, many of which pieces are encrusted with semi-precious stones. From this tray she removes a garnet-studded gold cross on a heavy gold chain, which she proffers to MILLICENT._

JULIA  
From the estate of William Howley, ma'am – the Archbishop who presided at Queen Victoria's coronation.

_MILLICENT catches up the item in a suede-gloved hand, turning it this way and that to catch the light, a strange smile curving her lips._

MILLICENT  
That will be perfect.

**EXT. SOUTHGATE. CHASE SIDE – EARLY EVENING.**

_JULIA, fashionably bundled against the chill in a swing coat of vibrant tweed, is walking along the busy main street while talking on her mobile._

JULIA  
Megs, it's Mum. If you can tear yourself away from another lamb and tomato casserole, I've just sold the Howley cross. I know, you won't recall it, but we're 350 quid richer – and no quibbling over the price, can you believe it? So I thought: dinner at someplace nice? I've not had Thai in ages. Tell _Gareth_ –  
_(she places mock dramatic emphasis on the name)  
_- he can take someone else to the pub. I've not seen you for days, and he's officially not invited.  
_(grins)  
_Ring me when you get this. Love you.

_She ends the call and pockets the mobile, smiling._

**EXT. SOUTHGATE. ENFIELD BIBLE COLLEGE. WILLIAMSES' COTTAGE – EARLY EVENING.**

_The front door opens from within, revealing MEGAN HANOVER, a pretty young woman of 18, with the same lithe build and glossy dark hair as her mother JULIA, though hers is cut slightly shorter. She stands on the front step of the homey, handsome little cottage, her thin but trendy coat held closed by one hand, as though she donned it in a hurry. Her flushed face betrays awkwardness and apology for the unexpectedness of her visit._

_The occupant of the house, REVEREND RICHARD WILLIAMS, reacts to her presence with no small surprise. Twin brother to MILLICENT, he is in his early 60s, though his appearance – an austere countenance, shadowed by a beard, and neatly groomed white-blonde hair – betrays their age more than hers. Though dressed casually in jeans and a jumper, he has retained his clerical collar on the dark shirt worn beneath._

WILLIAMS  
Megan?

MEGAN  
I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. I just…could I talk to you for a moment?

WILLIAMS  
Of course.

_He holds the door open for her to enter the house, his eyes lingering with curiosity as she walks past him._

**INT. WILLIAMSES' COTTAGE – EARLY EVENING.**

_MILLICENT enters the foyer and sets her handbag and a minute wrapped parcel on a stand beside the door. She walks into the house, unwinding her cashmere scarf as she does so, and arrives at the living room to see WILLIAMS and MEGAN in an embrace, his hands cradling her face as he kisses her forehead. _

MILLICENT  
_(with a bored, long-suffering air)  
_Richard.

_WILLIAMS and MEGAN hastily break apart, and MEGAN, her eyes red from crying, hurries out of the living room, past MILLICENT._

MEGAN  
_(barely audible)  
_Beg pardon, Lady Williams.

_WILLIAMS follows her, the tenderness of a moment ago now masked behind an expressionless countenance. He curtly acknowledges his sister as he passes._

WILLIAMS  
Millicent.

_MEGAN does not resist his aid in helping her into her coat, though she does not linger in the house a moment longer than it takes to fasten the buttons._

MEGAN  
Good night, sir. I – good night.

WILLIAMS  
_(softly)  
_Good night, Megan.

_She ducks quickly out of the house, while MILLICENT shoots a cool, knowing look at her brother._

MILLICENT  
I didn't realize you were…entertaining. Bit early to send her on her way, isn't it?

_His rigid composure fades in a long, deep sigh that seems to crumple him from within._

WILLIAMS  
What have I done, Millicent?

_He turns to her with sudden anger._

WILLIAMS, CONT.  
What have you done to me?

**INT. SOUTHGATE. ENFIELD BIBLE COLLEGE. DORMITORY – EARLY EVENING.**

_MEGAN is hurrying down a narrow corridor of dorm rooms when one of the doors opens and GARETH ROBSON steps out. He is 25 and leanly built, with a dusting of a beard and scruffy dark blonde hair cut artfully just above his shoulders._

GARETH  
Megs?

_She does not slow in her progress down the corridor but makes as though to walk past him. Not to be so easily put off, GARETH catches her arm and pulls her sharply about._

GARETH, CONT.  
Megs, where were you?

_She evades his gaze, her own eyes still red._

GARETH, CONT.  
Were you with him?  
_(at the wordless acknowledgment of her expression)  
_Christ, Megs; what the hell were you _thinking_?

MEGAN  
I had to go.

GARETH  
What do you mean, you had to?

_She pulls her arm free and continues down the corridor, but GARETH calls after her._

GARETH, CONT.  
Did you tell your mum?

_She stops abruptly to look back at him._

MEGAN  
What business is that of yours?

GARETH  
She needs to know, Megs!

_MEGAN whips around, almost screaming:_

MEGAN  
So did I! And did anyone think of that?

_She storms to the end of the corridor, shoves open a door leading to a stairwell, and disappears from sight._

**INT. JULIA'S HOUSE. KITCHEN – EARLY EVENING.**

_JULIA – still dressed in her work apparel, though she has forsaken shoes and stockings to trip about barefoot – is in her snug, ramshackle kitchen, infusing a pot of herbal tea on the counter with her mobile cradled to her ear, conversing casually with her sister, ELINOR HANOVER (O.S.)._

JULIA  
You'll never guess who came by the shop tonight…  
_(pauses for response from the other end of the line)  
_Millicent, right at closing.  
_(pauses again as ELINOR asks something)  
_No, haven't a clue. Just in and out and dropped 350 quid.

ELINOR, O.S.  
_(clearly)  
_Free as ever with her money, then. What did she want?

JULIA  
Christmas gift for her brother.

_She looks up at a light knock at the front door and smiles as she turns back to her tea._

JULIA, CONT.  
That's Megs – got to go. I'll ring you later.  
_(over her shoulder, she adds)  
_Megs - come on in, love. I've just got the tea started.  
_(to ELINOR)  
_Love you – bye. Bye.

_She ends the call and sets her mobile on the counter. The front door opens, off-screen, and a VISITOR's footsteps are heard approaching the kitchen. JULIA looks up, and though the VISITOR remains off-screen, JULIA's reaction speaks volumes. Her breath catches in her throat and her eyes widen – but not with fear – at the identity of the VISITOR._

JULIA, CONT.  
What are you – ?

_She brings a hand to her mouth to cover a happy sob._

JULIA  
_(softly)  
_Oh my God.

**INT. JULIA'S HOUSE. KITCHEN – NIGHT.**

_Several hours later, JULIA comes into the kitchen, slightly tousled and smiling softly, wearing only a lavender satin dressing gown that exposes several inches of her long legs. The kitchen lights are all still on, and her pot of tea sits neglected on the counter. She is halfway to the counter where her mobile sits when her landline phone – an exquisite replica of an antique, perched on its own display stand – rings. Groaning, she turns back to answer it, cradling the receiver against her chin._

JULIA  
_(with surprising pleasantness)  
_Hello?

**CUT to EXT. ENFIELD BIBLE COLLEGE. CHASE SIDE GATE – NIGHT.**

_GARETH, now in a dark gray wool coat, military-cut with a high collar, is walking purposefully out the wide front gate of the campus toward the street, which is busy with traffic even at this hour. He holds the mobile to his ear as he addresses JULIA intently._

GARETH  
Mrs. Hanover, it's Gareth. Is Megan there?

**CUT to INT. JULIA'S HOUSE. KITCHEN – NIGHT.**

JULIA  
_(frowning)  
_No – should she be?

_There is a movement in the darkness of the living room, just beyond the doorway through which JULIA entered the kitchen._

**CUT to EXT. SOUTHGATE. RESIDENTIAL STREET – NIGHT.**

GARETH  
She left the college in a fit state, and I wanted to call you because –

_He stops abruptly and looks at his mobile screen, which displays the blinking message: "JULIA, 00:00:20," indicating an abrupt end to the call._

GARETH  
Shit.

_He snaps his mobile closed, pockets it, and quickens his pace down the street._

**EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – NIGHT.**

_GARETH knocks at the door of the dark house, lit from within by only a few lights upstairs and below._

GARETH  
Mrs. Hanover?

_He knocks again, peering sround the curtain over the door's small window._

GARETH, CONT.  
Julia – it's Gareth. Are you there?

_He trails off, frowning, and tries the door latch; it is unlocked and opens easily beneath his hand._

GARETH, CONT.  
_(concernedly now)  
_Julia?

_He steps into the house –_

**INT. JULIA'S HOUSE – NIGHT.**

_- and winds his way toward the still-illumined kitchen._

GARETH  
Julia, are you…?

_His voice trails away at the sight of JULIA'S BODY, flung to the floor in death. She lies on her back on the floor beside the phone stand, the dressing gown fallen askew to bare most of her legs, and a dark ligature mark streaks across her pale throat. GARETH's breath leaves him in a pained groan as he crouches down beside her._

GARETH  
Oh God, Julia…

**CREDITS: ****SON OF LYNLEY** **(OPT.)**

Music: "The Walk" by Imogen Heap

_It's not meant to be like this / Not what I planned at all,  
__I don't want to feel like this / Yeah,  
__No it's not meant to be like this / Not what I planned at all,  
__I don't want to feel like this / So that makes it all your fault._


	2. Coming Home

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Episode 2: "Illumination"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.  
****ALSO:** While the theological college depicted in this episode is strongly based on Oak Hill College, which I had the pleasure of attending for the fall semester of 2000, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, real stores, or real educational facilities is purely coincidental.

**EXT. CENTRAL LONDON – EVENING.**

_A familiar vintage vehicle – DETECTIVE INSPECTOR LYNLEY's 1968 Bristol 410 – drives through the rain-swept, lamp-lit city._

**EXT. BELGRAVIA. LYNLEY'S FLAT – EVENING.**

_The Bristol pulls up before the contemporary façade of a handsome two-story residence, nestled amidst similarly posh, contemporary housing._

**INT. LYNLEY'S CAR – EVENING.**

_Detective Inspector__ THOMAS LYNLEY, looking rather the worse for wear in his dark suit from ADELE's funeral, stills the engine but makes no move to leave the vehicle. Seated opposite him in the passenger seat is __Detective Sergeant__ BARBARA HAVERS, also still in her funeral wear and looking like she needs a good lie-in, and the back seat is occupied by __Detective Constable__ THOMAS CRAWFORD, who is propped against the window, half-asleep and at the brink of exhaustion._

HAVERS  
Are you sure this is such a good idea, sir?

_He looks over at her pointedly._

LYNLEY  
It had better be – it was yours.

HAVERS  
_(with no small awkwardness)  
_Right, well…I've been thinking…There'll be gossip enough just havin' him in town. If he's staying with you –

LYNLEY  
_(fairly)  
_Where else would he go, Sergeant?

HAVERS  
_(practically)  
_To mine. It'd stir up less chat than he would stayin' here –  
_(under her breath)  
_- never mind he's gorgeous.

LYNLEY  
I'll pretend you didn't just say that about my son.

_He unlatches his seat belt and opens the car door, while HAVERS reaches into the back seat to lightly tap at THOMAS' knee._

HAVERS  
Right, you. We're home.

_He opens heavy-lidded eyes at this remark and she flashes a quick, albeit weary, smile._

**INT. LYNLEY'S FLAT. GUEST ROOM – EVENING.**

_THOMAS, fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, is lying on the bed in exhausted slumber, his two bags of belongings safely deposited on a bedside chair. HAVERS draws a expensive-looking ivory duvet – doubtless, of an astronomically high thread count – over him as LYNLEY looks on, then she brushes THOMAS' cheek with her fingers before following LYNLEY out into the corridor. _

**INT. LYNLEY'S FLAT. CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_LYNLEY turns to HAVERS, looking utterly steamrolled and gray._

LYNLEY  
Thank you, Havers.

_She gives a shrugging sort of half-smile._

HAVERS  
Anytime.

LYNLEY  
Well. Good night, then.

_He turns, rather unthinkingly, and begins walking down the corridor to his own room._

HAVERS  
Um…sir?

_He turns and looks back at her, as though he'd forgotten she was still standing there._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Sofa?

LYNLEY  
_(sighs)  
_Ah yes, then there's you.

HAVERS  
_(dismissively)  
_I can see m'self home, sir, no problem –

LYNLEY  
I was meaning to ask…

_Words are even harder to come by when one is both grieving _and_ exhausted…_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
It's not escaped my notice that my – that…Thomas – is rather attached to you.

HAVERS  
_(attempting cheekiness to lighten the mood)  
_Can't help bein' irresistible, sir.

_LYNLEY acknowledges this remark with a small, bittersweet smile._

LYNLEY  
I think you remind him a bit of his mum, actually.

HAVERS  
_(carefully)  
_And – forgive me, sir, but – are we sayin' that's a good thing right now?

LYNLEY  
Anything that keeps him off the roof of New Scotland Yard is a _very_ good thing.

HAVERS  
He's not the type. If he was gonna off himself, he'd of done it the night she…the night it happened. Instead, he came to me, which means he's gonna try and live through it.

_LYNLEY gives her a long, considering look._

LYNLEY  
I don't suppose I could persuade you to stay forever?

_A lengthy silence falls, broken finally by HAVERS' awkward, self-deprecating reply:_

HAVERS  
I'm far less irresistible in the morning, sir.

_LYNLEY maintains his considering look._

LYNLEY  
Moreso, I should think.

HAVERS  
_(deliberately)  
_One thing's for sure: you need a good night's sleep. I'll see myself out.

_She turns to walk away._

LYNLEY  
_(very softly)  
_In the morning, if you please.

HAVERS  
_(softly concedes, without turning back)  
_In the morning.

_She walks down the corridor to the stairs._

**INT. OXFORD. THAMES VALLEY POLICE STATION. INTERVIEW ROOM – LATE MORNING.  
****(FLASHBACK)**

_Everything is tinged with haze – perhaps the pain of the memories – as HAVERS' dreaming mind recalls intensely the events of the past few days. _

LYNLEY, V.O.  
_(very quietly)  
_I love her.

_HAVERS comes fully awake in her dream and stares up at LYNLEY in neither disbelief nor horror but the pure agony of realization, her breathing heavy in her ears._

HAVERS  
You just met her.

LYNLEY  
No, I didn't.

_The scene abruptly flashes to a later moment._

**INT. OXFORD. ADELE'S FLAT – EARLY EVENING.**

_HAVERS, in a dressing gown and hot rollers, is sitting on ADELE's bed as ADELE – also in a dressing gown, though her hair is threaded through with pearl strings and her makeup exquisite – turns from the mirror to address HAVERS._

ADELE  
_(thoughtfully)  
_Anyway, I don't know. Somehow I think Thomas would deal better with a stroppy little redhead. Somebody who didn't adore him quite so much and wasn't afraid to say when he was being a prat.

_She cracks an impish smile, the sort that serves as the bane of such existences as HAVERS'._

ADELE, CONT.  
I mean, surely you've got a set of tweeds and a pony back home?

_HAVERS almost retorts her reply in a combination of startlement and hurt._

HAVERS  
Hey! I was bein' honest!

ADELE  
_(lightly but directly)  
_So was I.

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA – EVENING.**

_ADELE and HAVERS are lingering at the wine table when ADELE remarks with feigned nonchalance, looking anywhere but at HAVERS:_

ADELE  
It's pathetic, I imagine, asking someone to be your friend, especially when you both fancy the same bloke…

_Her eyes reluctantly flit to HAVERS._

ADELE, CONT.  
But that's exactly what I'm doing.

_HAVERS' smile, though minute, is genuine –_

HAVERS  
I'd be honored.

_- and ADELE's relief is plain to see._

ADELE  
Really?

HAVERS  
Really.

_ADELE, grinning merrily, hands her a glass of wine._

ADELE  
You're not gonna take exception to my implication that you fancy your boss?

HAVERS  
_(deadpan)  
_What's the point? You've got a lot of jumpers I'd like to borrow.

_She grins suddenly at ADELE and takes a hearty draft of the wine – but the respite of this memory is quickly shattered with a gunshot._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERY. SIDE CORRIDOR – EVENING.**

_ADELE cries out in pain and slumps against LYNLEY, the bodice of her white gown a sodden mass of blood. HAVERS' breathing is ragged and frantic as she stares at them, momentarily immobilized with horror._

CRAWFORD, O.S.  
_(muted)  
_Nooooo! What've y'done, y' stupid girl?

_LYNLEY, cradling ADELE against him, shouts to HAVERS, startling her out of her paralysis._

LYNLEY  
Havers!

_Her heart thundering thickly in her ears, HAVERS leaps on the horrified CRAWFORD, wrestling him to the floor with the strength of a madwoman and kicking away his gun. She looks back at LYNLEY and shouts back with grim triumph –_

HAVERS  
Got him, sir!

_- but LYNLEY does not acknowledge her, being focused entirely on lowering a deathly pale ADELE to the floor. As HAVERS looks on, THOMAS runs forward and falls to his knees beside his mother. Their dialogue is a muddle of murmurs to HAVERS, broken only by THOMAS' sudden scream._

THOMAS  
Somebody call an ambulance! _Now!_ McAllister!

_HAVERS does not move but looks up with mild surprise as MCALLISTER and ROTHEBY push their way through the crowd she did not realize had assembled. They take one appalled look at the scene before springing into action, with the help of the other CONSTABLES, shoving back the REPORTERS, PHOTOGRAPHERS, and other curious onlookers, but no one seems to notice HAVERS – not even CRAWFORD, who whimpers beneath her death-grip. LYNLEY and THOMAS both lean nearer the fallen ADELE, addressing her inaudibly as they take hold of her hands, touch her face, anything to hold her a moment longer in this world, but all too soon the futility of these measures is made obvious. THOMAS takes ADELE by the shoulders and pulls her body to him, sobbing even as he screams:_

THOMAS, CONT.  
_Noooooooooooo!_

_CRAWFORD jolts at this cry, realizing at last the enormity of what he has done, but HAVERS, though she is ashen and trembling herself, wrestles him to his feet, merciless and terrifyingly calm._

HAVERS  
John Crawford, I'm arresting you for the murders of Davey Gilchrist and Adele Crawford –

_CRAWFORD gives a painful cry at his daughter's name, but HAVERS only wrenches his arms more tightly behind his back and continues by rote._

HAVERS, CONT.  
You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be used in evidence.

_She looks at LYNLEY for a split second, and the sheer agony in his face knocks the breath from her body. Breathing raggedly – a sound abnormally loud in her ears – she turns CRAWFORD sharply about and shoves him toward the assembly of CONSTABLES, rushing them both from the corridor as quickly as possible, even as THOMAS' screams resonate in her ears:_

THOMAS, O.S.  
Go away! Go back to London and your wife and your mansions! I hate you! _Hate you!_

**INT. OXFORDSHIRE MORGUE – NIGHT.**

_HAVERS, still in her crumpled evening wear, walks down a dimly lit corridor, approaching, as in a dream, the room to which ADELE'S BODY has been delivered. As she nears the slice of gray-white light that is the doorway, LYNLEY's sobs tear at her ears and her heart._

LYNLEY  
Oh, Adele…_why?_ It should've been me – _it was supposed to be me…!_

_HAVERS walks through the open doorway, guarded within by a stone-faced SEVERN and FAIRCHILD, just as LYNLEY leans down to kiss ADELE yet again, desperately amid his sobs._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
I love you, Adele. Love you more than I could've ever dared to say…and now you'll never know…

_A sudden lone tear snakes down HAVERS' cheek at the sight, the barest hint of the sorrow ripping her apart inside, though she quickly dashes it away with a cursory brush of one hand and a grim expression. She exchanges glances with the OFFICERS, then approaches LYNLEY, who is oblivious in his grief to their presence. She brings a hand to his shoulder – the first time she has touched him since ADELE's death, and certainly the most intimate touch she has ever initiated._

HAVERS  
Sir…

_He shrugs away her touch._

LYNLEY  
No.

_HAVERS bites her lip against the threatening tears, stirred up by his rebuff, and tries again._

HAVERS  
Sir, you need to –

LYNLEY  
_(agonized)  
_Leave me!

_She draws a very long breath before making, perhaps, the bravest denial in her life to date._

HAVERS  
_(quietly)  
_No.

_The insubordination is enough to rankle, and LYNLEY straightens slightly to look back at her._

LYNLEY  
_(echoing in disbelief)  
_No?

HAVERS  
_(with calm resolution)  
_I am _not_ gonna leave you alone, sir. Not on this of all nights.

_His reply is autocratic, despite the tear-ragged edge to his words._

LYNLEY  
And do you want to be looking for a new career, tomorrow of all mornings?

HAVERS  
Whatever it takes, sir. I'm not leaving you alone tonight.

**INT. OLD BANK HOTEL. LYNLEY'S ROOM – NIGHT.**

_True to her word, HAVERS lies in LYNLEY's bed, her arms curled tightly around him as he sleeps – and she sobs out her own grief. Even in this stolen moment she must be subdued, however: though she makes no effort now to staunch the tears – tucking her face against his hair as a gesture of mutual comfort – little sound can be heard besides her uneven breathing and the occasional sniffle. As she holds him to her – or herself to him; which it is is unclear – recollections race through her mind:_

HAVERS, V.O.  
I haven't spoken to anyone and you should know by now that I won't, but McAllister's not above bringing you before a tribunal.

_With a sniffle of denial, she tucks herself more snugly against him, but the words do not cease._

HAVERS, V.O.  
I meant it, sir – what I said this morning. I'll defend you to the death, but there's not a lot I can do if the two of you show up on the cover of _The Sun _tomorrow_._

CRAWFORD, V.O.  
If his superintendent don't sack him for shagging a witness – and face it, Sergeant, everyone knows, even that idiot Malvern – then his reputation will be pissed to the wind when word gets out about his bastard son.

**(END FLASHBACK)**

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S FLAT. LIVING ROOM – EARLY MORNING.**

_HAVERS comes awake of a sudden and is momentarily disoriented in the realization that she is lying alone on a sofa and not in bed with her grieving colleague. She shivers, both from the recalled horrors and the absence of the warmth of LYNLEY's body, and tugs her coat – in lieu of a blanket – up to cover her body, still fully clad in her dark funeral wear. She lies like this – curled restlessly on her side beneath a slightly tatty peacoat, her head propped on an incalculably expensive throw pillow – for a few moments, as her last memory of CRAWFORD quietly echoes in her brain. _

CRAWFORD, V.O.  
If his superintendent don't sack him for shagging a witness – and face it, Sergeant, _everyone knows_ – then his reputation will be pissed to the wind when word gets out about his bastard son.

_With a restive, frustrated sigh, she peers up at a smartly contemporary wall clock, which reads a minute or two till 5:00. She sighs again, this time with determination, and tosses back her makeshift coverlet._

**INT. LYNLEY'S FLAT. LIVING ROOM – EARLY MORNING.**

_HAVERS, having extricated herself from the sofa and slipped her coat back on, awkwardly plumps and replaces the throw pillows in a feeble attempt to tidy up. She then picks up and slings a duffel bag – her only luggage from Oxford – over one shoulder and walks through the dark flat, hesitating a moment at the door to look back, almost regretfully, into the darkness, then she exits the house, quietly closing the door behind her._

**INT. GILCHRIST'S GALLERIA. SIDE CORRIDOR – EVENING.  
****(FLASHBACK)**

_This time, the memory is LYNLEY's. A gunshot sounds and ADELE snaps back against him, crying out in pain. LYNLEY cradles her to his chest, his heartbeat deafening as he watches the bloodstain spread across the bodice of her gown. The dialogue around him is consequently muted and distant:_

CRAWFORD, O.S.  
Nooooo! What've y'done, y' stupid girl!

_LYNLEY shouts to his sergeant –_

LYNLEY  
Havers!

- _but neither listens nor looks for her reply. He lowers ADELE onto the floor, aghast at the sight of her blood-soaked gown and increasing pallor. THOMAS falls to his knees beside her, but LYNLEY does not notice as ADELE looks up at him through pained, half-closed eyes._

ADELE  
Thomas…

_It is impossible to tell in this moment which of them she addresses, but her son assumes it to be himself and responds accordingly, bringing a trembling hand to her cheek._

THOMAS  
I'm here, Mum. I'm here. You're gonna be fine.

_Promptly giving the lie to this gentle reassurance, he screams down the corridor:_

THOMAS  
Somebody call an ambulance! _Now!_ McAllister!

_LYNLEY automatically takes out his mobile and is dialing 999 when ADELE's hand catches his._

ADELE  
Let it go, love…it's too late…

_LYNLEY slowly, thoughtlessly returns the mobile to his jacket pocket while his other hand curls around ADELE's. His eyes do not leave hers, despite her ensuing dialogue with THOMAS.  
_  
THOMAS, O.S.  
Don't say that! We can have you at hospital before –

_She closes her eyes and draws a rasping breath, prompting LYNLEY to tighten his grasp on her hand – a feeble attempt to hold her life a moment longer.  
_  
ADELE  
You have to forgive him, Tommy…

THOMAS, O.S.  
What – Granddad? I'll never forgive him, Mum – never as long as I live – !

ADELE  
You have to forgive…your father…

_She looks at LYNLEY then, her eyes welling in tears that have nothing to do with her physical pain, and he chokes on a sob, the same grief mirrored in his own eyes. Her eyes fall closed once more, causing THOMAS to prompt tearfully:_

THOMAS, O.S.  
But you never –

ADELE  
I love you…

_Her eyes open briefly and flicker between LYNLEY, who still holds her hand, and her son._

ADELE  
Love you both…so much…

_Her eyes fall closed for the last time._

**(END FLASHBACK)**

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING.**

_LYNLEY wakes up with a cry._

LYNLEY  
Adele…!

_He sits up, breathing frantically, and looks about him at the dark and empty confines of the bedroom. With a groan, he brings a hand to rub at his eyes, stifling the grief even in private. The nightstand clock reads 5:30, and once his breathing has slowed, he gets out of bed and drags on a t-shirt._

**INT. LYNLEY'S FLAT. STAIRWELL – EARLY MORNING.**

_LYNLEY, wearing boxers and a t-shirt and looking like death warmed over, walks quietly down the glass-enclosed spiral stairs. He pauses at a sound, halfway down, and calls in a whisper:_

LYNLEY  
Barbara?

_No reply comes, so he continues down to the landing and walks into the living room. _

LYNLEY, CONT.  
_(softly)  
_Barbara?

_Even in the darkness of a winter morning, it is clear that the sofa is empty. He stares at it for a long moment, his brokenness intensified by HAVERS' abandonment, for he cannot know that her departure took place only minutes before, nor guess the reason for it. He sits wearily on the sofa and stretches out to lie on his side, resting his head on the same throw pillow HAVERS had used barely a half-hour before._

**EXT. SLOANE SQUARE TUBE STATION – EARLY MORNING.**

_HAVERS, looking washed out but resolute, her hair long since knotted back against a damp and miserable morning breeze, is standing outside the station as the gate opens. The ATTENDANT greets her briefly –_

ATTENDANT  
Ma'am.

_- as she walks past him into the station. She acknowledges him with a glance but does not speak._

**INT. VICTORIA LINE TRAIN – EARLY MORNING.**

_HAVERS is curled into a corner seat on the train with the duffel bag on her lap. Seated opposite are a sleepy BUSINESSMAN in a crumpled suit and two WOMEN in tailored executive wear and stilettos, conversing quietly over their Costa coffees, next to whom HAVERS looks doubly bedraggled. The BUSINESSMAN perks up for a moment, peering over at HAVERS as though she is familiar for some reason, then thinks better of it and settles back in his seat again, eyes closed._

**INT. HAVERS' FLAT – EARLY MORNING.**

_HAVERS walks into the flat and mindlessly locks the door behind her. Though the place is still quite dark, owing to the hour, she does not reach for the light switch; instead, she drops her duffel on the floor and simply stares ahead for many moments._

**INT. HAVERS' FLAT. BATHROOM – EARLY MORNING**.

_HAVERS is in the shower, rinsing shampoo from her hair with her eyes closed – more in weariness than for any other purpose. Only her head and shoulders are clearly visible in the dingy light; it is a small moment of unguarded release wrought on by utter exhaustion, with no sexual undercurrent whatsoever._

**INT. HAVERS' FLAT. BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING.**

_Now out of the shower with damp hair, wearing a dressing gown that has been roughly laundered too many times to retain any distinctive color, HAVERS goes to her closet and, after a brief moment of contemplation in the semi-darkness afforded by one bedside lamp, she takes out the hanger bearing a crisp dark trouser suit – the only one of its kind in her wardrobe and clearly reserved for the weightiest occasions._

**INT. NEW SCOTLAND YARD. OFFICE CORRIDOR – MORNING.**

_ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER HILLIER is approaching his office when he sees HAVERS waiting outside it, all-but-immaculately turned out. She is wearing a small amount of painstakingly applied makeup and her hair is clipped back at her temples in a semblance of neatness._

HILLIER  
Sergeant.

HAVERS  
I'd like a word, please, sir.

HILLIER  
_(dripping sarcasm)  
_And here I thought you wanted first crack at the Hanover case.

HAVERS  
Hanover can hang for all I care, sir.

HILLIER  
_(curiously)  
_Hanover _did_, more or less – garroted in her kitchen, late last night. Sure you wouldn't rather have a chat about that?

HAVERS  
I'm afraid not, sir.

_HILLIER considers his watch._

HILLIER  
Five minutes, sergeant.

_She follows him into the office and closes the door behind her._

**INT. LYNLEY'S BEDROOM – MORNING.**

_LYNLEY slowly paces across the room as he talks on his mobile. He has clearly taken the same, if not greater, pains with his appearance than HAVERS: he now wears a severe suit of solid, unrelieved black with a pristine white shirt, buttoned snugly to the collar. These efforts, however, little lessen the effects of the past few days on his face: his eyes are still shadowed and his complexion maintains a gray cast of grief and soul-deep exhaustion._

LYNLEY  
_(in the pleasantest voice he can manage)  
_Thank you for accommodating at such terribly short notice….Yes, of course, that will be fine…I'll deliver it round this afternoon…Goodbye.

_He ends the call and pockets his mobile, then turns his attention to the sheet of paper and pen on his nightstand. The page is blank but for two words along the top: "Dear Tom". With a sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for the pen._

**INT. NEW SCOTLAND YARD. HILLIER'S OFFICE – MORNING.**

_HAVERS is seated opposite HILLIER at his desk, her face impassive. There is a moment of silence at he sits forward to contemplate her, or perhaps the remark she has just made._

HILLIER  
Would you repeat this under oath?

HAVERS  
_(without hesitation)  
_Yes, sir.

_HILLIER sighs and settles back in his chair._

HILLIER  
Take the Hanover case, Sergeant.

HAVERS  
_(with surprise)  
_With DI Lynley, sir?

HILLIER  
That remains to be decided. Until you hear otherwise and from me alone, you have authority on this case. Is that understood?

HAVERS  
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

_Her thanks is genuine, though it betrays no relief._

**INT. NEW SCOTLAND YARD. OFFICE CORRIDOR – MORNING.**

_LYNLEY is approaching HILLER's office just as HAVERS walks out. For a moment they simply stare at other, HAVERS maintaining her expressionless mask while LYNLEY's face registers, in a span of seconds, shock, betrayal, and gratitude, but before either of them can speak a word, HILLIER appears in the doorway behind HAVERS and observes LYNLEY with an unpleasant smile._

HILLIER  
Lynley. You've saved me a phone call. Do come in.

_He turns dismissively back into the office. LYNLEY gives HAVERS a last, lingering look, not unlike a condemned man ascending his gallows, and goes into the office as well._


	3. Repercussions

_**Son of Lynley: A (proposed) Masterpiece MYSTERY! Original Series  
**_**_Episode 2: "Illumination"_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers, much as I might wish to, and I mean no disrespect to Elizabeth George, nor infringement of copyright, in creating and posting this project. I am neither a professional screenwriter nor a resident of the United Kingdom just yet (though I did enjoy the privilege of living there for several months) nor formally acquainted with police procedure in the United Kingdom or otherwise, so kindly overlook any shortcomings in those departments.  
****ALSO:** While the theological college depicted in this episode is strongly based on Oak Hill College, which I had the pleasure of attending for the fall semester of 2000, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, real stores, or real educational facilities is purely coincidental.

**EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MORNING.**

_The day is gray, cold and misty outside JULIA's house, which, despite its initial interior impression, is a generous two-story dwelling of somewhat contemporary construct with a lone dormant rosebush set in the pavement "lawn" betwixt the sidewalk and the house. Inside the police cordon, DETECTIVE CONSTABLE WINSTON NKATA talks with two SCENES OF CRIME OFFICERS as HAVERS approaches._

WINSTON  
Sergeant Havers.

_The SOCOs look up curiously in her direction, while HAVERS, genuinely glad to see WINSTON, banters a reply._

HAVERS  
Who said you could come?

WINSTON  
Well, there's a rumor goin' round that you might be working solo for a bit; I thought you might need a hand.

HAVERS  
_(dryly)  
_Who started that, I wonder? And –  
_(lowering her voice; with a sidewise glance at the SOCOs)  
_- why does everyone find me so bloody fascinating today?

_WINSTON laughs shortly, but at the absence of either humor or understanding in her expression, replies in a like manner._

WINSTON  
Well, um…it might have somethin' to do with your debut in _The Sun_ yesterday…

HAVERS  
_(puzzled)  
_My what?

WINSTON  
There was a picture of you drinking wine with that, um, artist – just before the murder, it said. You were described as "an unidentified redhead."

HAVERS  
Thank God for small mercies.

WINSTON  
_(awkwardly)  
_Yeah, well…it didn't serve to confuse too many people…You've sort of become the Met's favorite pin-up overnight.

HAVERS  
_What?_

WINSTON  
_(with a thread of merriment)  
_Well…I'd be lying if I said you didn't look a bit foxy – um, ma'am.

HAVERS  
_(dubiously)  
_Next to Adele Crawford? Oh God.

_She groans as all the horrors of the previous days return in a rush._

HAVERS, CONT.  
Look, just catch me up on Julia Hanover; I'm sure we'll have ample opportunity for gossip later.

WINSTON  
Fair enough, ma'am.

**INT. JULIA'S KITCHEN – MID-MORNING.**

_JULIA'S BODY, bluish pale in death and covered only by the lavender dressing gown, is lying on the kitchen floor, eerily serene but for the thin, dark ligature mark across her slender throat. HAVERS crouches down to trace the mark with gloved fingertips and not a little regret._

HAVERS  
She's lovely.

_WINSTON's expression betrays similar feeling, though his voice remains professional._

WINSTON  
Julia Alexis Hanover, thirty-five. Presumably strangled at some point during the night.

HAVERS  
Any sign of the weapon?

WINSTON  
Not as yet, ma'am, though SOCO's combing the place, inside and out.

_HAVERS' gaze returns to JULIA'S BODY._

HAVERS  
The mark's a bit ragged…What d'you reckon? A thin rope? Or chain, maybe?

_She glances up at WINSTON, who shrugs, then she turns back to span JULIA's delicate neck with her thumb and forefinger._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(to herself)  
_Like snapping the head off a dandelion.  
_(to WINSTON)  
_Any idea whether the killer was male or female?

_He shakes his head._

WINSTON  
Not yet. As you say: considering the build of the victim, almost anyone could've done it.

_HAVERS' eyes follow the line of the dressing gown down JULIA'S BODY which, while not unduly exposed, is bared from the thighs down by the fall of the fabric. She winces before asking:_

HAVERS  
Any sexual assault?

_Her eyes are on JULIA'S BODY and so she does not see the wry, considering expression flicker across WINSTON'S face._

WINSTON  
Not as such – or rather, I should say: not so far as we can tell yet.

_Momentarily satisfied, HAVERS rises to her feet and leaves JULIA'S BODY to look about the kitchen – namely, at the oversteeped herbal tea still sitting on the counter._

HAVERS  
Was the house broken into?

WINSTON  
Doesn't look like it. The murder was reported by Gareth Robson, boyfriend of the victim's daughter. He was on the phone with Julia at about 9:00 when the call ended abruptly from her end. This struck him as suspicious, so he came to the house, found the front door unlocked, went in and discovered the body, and rang the police straightaway.

_HAVERS looks at him in surprise._

HAVERS  
Who calls their girlfriend's mum at that hour? Did he say why?

WINSTON  
Julia's daughter – Megan, she's called – was apparently in a bit of a strop with him. Gareth rang up to explain to Julia, he said, and after about thirty seconds of conversation, she - or, more likely, her killer - hung up on him.

HAVERS_  
_My money's on Julia - probably didn't want to get involved in the dating drama.  
_(under her breath)_  
Little prat.

WINSTON  
And that's not the most interesting bit. Between the time of Gareth's call and his arrival at the house a half-hour later, two 999 calls were placed from Julia's landline – both hangups. By the time he arrived to find the body, police were already on their way.

HAVERS  
Could Julia have detected a prowler and made the calls herself?  
_(thinking aloud)  
_But then, why wouldn't she use her mobile? This kitchen's not exactly the most inconspicuous place to make a call, I'm guessing – and she's in her dressing gown, so she would have had to be coming from somewhere else: bedroom, bathroom maybe –

WINSTON  
That's the second interesting bit.

**INT. JULIA'S BEDROOM – MID-MORNING.**

_WINSTON and HAVERS stand over the unmade bed – resplendent even in disarray, with its ornate iron frame, lace-trimmed sheets and burgundy brocade comforter – while SOCOs excavate the rest of the room, itself warmly earth-toned and furnished with mismatched but complementary antiques._

WINSTON  
Julia wasn't married, but she definitely had company last night.

_HAVERS frowns in thought._

HAVERS  
Somebody did, that's for sure. I'm sure Lafferty will be more than happy to enlighten us on that point.

_She turns to WINSTON._

HAVERS, CONT.  
_(frankly)  
_What d'you think: the lover killed her or the lover was a witness and called 999?

WINSTON  
But why not talk to the police, if he'd bothered to call?

HAVERS  
Maybe he was cheating on his wife and didn't want to be found out – or he might've been scared out of his wits, if he saw the murder take place.  
_(thoughtfully)  
_Speaking of which: Julia's daughter – did she come home last night?

WINSTON  
That's interesting point number three. Megan doesn't live with her mum; she goes to the Bible college just up the road and has a room in the dorm, which, according to Gareth, she left around half-seven last night. She hasn't answered her mobile ever since – and she didn't show up for class this morning.

**INT. NEW SCOTLAND YARD. HILLIER'S OFFICE – MID-MORNING.**

_HILLIER has apparently strung out LYNLEY's nerves for several minutes, for he is casually completing a phone call as LYNLEY sits opposite him, still impeccably presented but turning grayer with each moment, the shadows in his face deeper than when he arrived._

HILLIER  
Excellent - thank you...Yes, that will be perfect...Goodbye.

_He ends the call and carefully sets the mobile on his desktop before calmly looking over at LYNLEY._

HILLIER  
_(with a chilly sort of pleasantness)  
_Well. I daresay I needn't tell you, Lynley, about the piss-poor outcome of the Gilchrist murder investigation.

LYNLEY  
_(wearily; clearing his throat to speak)  
_No, sir – though I daresay you'll wish to just the same.

_HILLIER continues as though LYNLEY hadn't spoken._

HILLIER  
A single murder! By a criminal mastermind hiding on the fringes of society? No! By the plainly visible father of the key witness, Adele Crawford.

_LYNLEY winces at the mention of her name._

HILLIER, CONT.  
_(with relish)  
_Oh yes, Miss Crawford. A stunning artist with a brilliant Detective Constable for a son.

_From the topmost drawer of his desk, he removes a copy of _The Sun_, the garish cover of which features, among the usual celebrity gossip, a photo of ADELE at the exhibition with the caption "Tate's Rising Star Killed in Oxford Galleria." He throws the paper on the desk, facing LYNLEY, then opens it to a marked page with the blatant headline "Tragic End for Tate-Bound Beauty" and myriad pictures of ADELE, exquisite as ever, posing and smiling with other guests from the exhibition. (One such includes ADELE and HAVERS lurking fashionably with their wine.) LYNLEY makes a choked sound and quickly looks away from the page, prompting HILLIER to continue on with pleasant relentlessness._

HILLIER, CONT.  
Where was I? Ah yes: Tom Crawford, Adele's belovèd son.

_He removes a file folder from the same desk drawer and sets it pointedly over the unfolded tabloid, opening the file to reveal it as THOMAS', as clearly indicated by a photocopy of THOMAS' Thames Valley ID._

HILLIER, CONT.  
_(as though reading from the file)  
_Thomas Ashlyn Crawford, a reportedly brilliant – and notably fatherless – Detective Constable who'd just put in for a transfer to the Met.  
_(with a twisted smile)  
_How'm I doin' so far?

_LYNLEY makes no reply._

HILLIER, CONT.  
Enter DI Tommy Lynley and his stroppy sergeant Havers. DI Lynley immediately leaps into a liaison with said key witness –

_LYNLEY looks up sharply – or as sharply as one can whilst crushed by grief and weariness._

HILLIER, CONT.  
_(pointedly)  
_- a liaison that results in her death the following evening.

_LYNLEY attempts a feeble protest._

LYNLEY  
Sir, if you please –

HILLIER  
_(relentlessly)  
_As I understand it, from all accounts – _including your own_ – Adele Crawford was only killed because she put herself between you and John Crawford's gun. Is this correct?

LYNLEY  
_(very quietly)  
_Yes, sir.

HILLIER  
_(mock-musing)  
_Funny thing, for a successful artist to throw her life away on a prat she met the day before – even if he was giving her one.

_LYNLEY winces at the accusation but does not attempt to deny it._

HILLIER, CONT.  
Funnier still that her long-estranged father would show up to kill said prat the day after the affair was commenced.

_He pauses for a long, ruminative moment, studying the upside-down tabloid and file before him._

HILLIER, CONT.  
_(casually)  
_In light of John Crawford's confession, Lynley, is there anything you'd like to tell me?

LYNLEY  
_(with scarcely enough energy to articulate the words)  
_Such as?

HILLIER  
You put in a request to expedite Thomas Crawford's transfer and recommended that he be immediately promoted to Detective Sergeant, did you not?

_LYNLEY sighs, compiling his best argument for the one thing remaining that he can – and must – protect._

LYNLEY  
Yes, I did. Thomas Crawford is long overdue for such a promotion, as Detective Sergeant McAllister of Thames Valley Oxfordshire will attest. He has completed all the required coursework, and he lost a great deal when his mother –  
_(quickly amends this)  
_- with the loss of his mother. I merely wished to smooth things over for him as best I could.

HILLIER  
Because his mum died?

LYNLEY  
Yes, sir.

HILLIER  
Then why did we receive your call regarding this transfer the afternoon _before_ Adele Crawford was murdered?

_LYNLEY is silent._

HILLIER, CONT.  
That's a fat lot of interest to take in one young Detective Constable, who had yet to be bereaved at the loss of his mother.

LYNLEY  
_(wearily)  
_If you are implying –

_HILLIER's pleasant nastiness snaps to outright anger with a snarl as he slams a hand down on THOMAS' file._

HILLIER  
John Crawford named you the boy's father, Lynley!

_LYNLEY, having been prepared for this ballast from the first, does not shift a hair or change his tone in the least._

LYNLEY  
I am well aware, sir.

HILLIER  
_(frankly)  
_Well? Are you?

_LYNLEY's aristocratic spine briefly surfaces through the haze of painful emotions._

LYNLEY  
_(frostily and precise)  
_Your question, _sir_, has no bearing on the Gilchrist murder case.

HILLIER  
And everything to do with the Crawford murder!

LYNLEY  
_(continuing in the crisp tone of a wrongly maligned peer)  
_John Crawford is in custody and has made a full confession –

HILLIER  
_(virtually apoplectic)  
_Naming you Tom Crawford's bloody father!

_LYNLEY stares him down with icy silence, having at last found a position worth defending, while HILLIER stares back but does not speak, waiting for LYNLEY to capitulate. When several moments of tangible tension have passed, HILLIER breaks eye contact with a dismissive snort and sharply closes THOMAS' file once more._

HILLIER  
Sod it. Crawford's record is – God save us – exemplary; we'll take him at the conclusion of his bereavement leave and upon completion of all the requisite assessments – and not a moment sooner. But I'll not bring him on as a sergeant. Not till he's proven his worth – independent of you and Thames Valley – beyond any shadow of a doubt.

_LYNLEY thaws slightly._

LYNLEY  
Thank you, sir.

HILLIER  
_(with a tight, humorless smile)  
_And now, what to do with you…

LYNLEY  
With all due respect, sir: I really don't care.

_HILLIER studies him for a moment before remarking, almost curiously:_

HILLIER  
You must think very little of your sergeant, Lynley.

LYNLEY  
I beg your pardon?

HILLIER  
_(nonchalantly)  
_You may have noticed her leaving my office just before you arrived.

LYNLEY  
I assumed you had questions for her.

HILLIER  
Oh, I did – in plenty. But it was she who called the meeting.

_At LYNLEY's resultant surprise, he adds, quite casually:_

HILLIER, CONT.  
Lying in wait outside my office, she was – for over an hour. Apparently, she wanted to get hold of me before I got hold of you.  
_(chuckles)  
_Besotted with you, of course. I thought she had more sense than that, but no matter.

_He gives a dismissive shrug._

LYNLEY  
I'm afraid I don't understand.

HILLIER  
_(bluntly)  
_I'll spell it out for you then, shall I? Havers is prepared to go before any court of my choosing to testify, in her words, that there was "nothing untoward" in your conduct with Adele Crawford in the days preceding her murder. As far as paternity – she wouldn't know, of course, but she insists she'd spoken with you regarding Thomas Crawford's transfer fully a day before you placed your call to the Met Careers Office. She claims his detective work is second only to yours, and that the Met would be lucky to procure such an officer.

_They regard each other for a long moment._

LYNLEY  
_(lightly incredulous)  
_And – you're inclined to believe her?

HILLIER  
_(with a tight smile)  
_I like Havers, Lynley. I'd like to believe she wouldn't lie to me, whatever the circumstances.  
_(abruptly changing to a more deliberate, businesslike tack)  
_More to the point, I value her judgment as a detective. To that end, I've assigned her a murder case in Southgate – nothing terribly high-profile, I suppose, and she'll have DC Nkata, but I imagine an officer of your capabilities might come in handy for, say…background investigation.

_LYNLEY frowns but does not give voice to his thoughts._

HILLIER, CONT.  
Let me put this delicately: if Adele Crawford was nothing to you, save for a victim in a murder case, well, I'd expect that you'd be glad to get back to work – with the odd counseling session for the subsequent PTS, of course. But beyond that – requesting leave or…looking forward to the prospect of, shall we say, being off duty for quite some time – one would begin to wonder just how well-acquainted you were.

_Their eyes meet in perfect comprehension._

HILLIER, CONT.  
I'd be only too happy to sack you, Lynley – after the requisite nastiness with disciplinary boards, of course. The case against you would be ridiculously easy to build, even without Havers and McAllister: the odd word to a brasserie waitress, Thames Valley underling, the receptionist at Miss Crawford's B&B, perhaps…  
_(trails off meaningfully)  
_One need only look at you to see the truth of it.

_LYNLEY glowers back at HILLIER, all-too-aware of his own hellish physical state._

HILLIER, CONT.  
And I'd be only too happy to oblige, only…I get the feeling, somehow, that's exactly what you want: to crawl home and wallow in your grief. Devil take the Metropolitan Police, Barbara Havers, and Thomas Crawford.

_LYNLEY's resultant expression is fierce and met by something not unlike a smirk from HILLIER._

HILLIER, CONT.  
Or perhaps not. And so I say again: what do I do with you, Lynley?

**EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS and WINSTON exit the house in conversation._

HAVERS  
Let's get a team on door-to-doors for any suspicious activity in the last twenty-four hours. There may well be an innocent explanation for Megan's disappearance, and I'd hate to rile up the neighborhood with a missing persons report if all she did was shack up with another bloke for a few days. That being said: who do we know had contact with either Julia or her daughter last night?

WINSTON  
Gareth Robson, of course. We might be able to turn up something at the college – other kids in her dorm who know her better than he thinks he does and might have an idea where she's gone.

HAVERS  
_(nods)  
_A quick word with her tutor might not be a bad idea, either. What else have you got on Julia?

WINSTON  
She ran an antiques shop, just up the road.

HAVERS  
We should have a look round there, see if anything out of the ordinary happened the last few days. Who's the next-of-kin? After Megan, I mean.

WINSTON  
Strictly speaking, Mum and Dad – Christa and Nigel Hanover – but they're a bit out of town.

HAVERS  
How out of town?

WINSTON  
Preston.

_HAVERS concedes this point with a dry nod._

WINSTON, CONT.  
According to Gareth, Julia and Megan lived with them till June, when they moved down here. Julia rented the house and the shop and Megan started at school in September.

HAVERS  
We should send in an officer from Lancashire to break the news, maybe poke around a bit. Preston to London's not a bad move, but Preston to Southgate – that's curious.  
_(recollecting)  
_You said "strictly speaking": who else've we got?

WINSTON  
Julia's sister, Elinor Hanover – lives in Islington.

_He hands HAVERS a photograph of JULIA with ELINOR, a striking woman in her mid-30s with sleek black hair and enormous dark eyes._

WINSTON, CONT.  
I've got an address.

_He proffers a notepad, from which HAVERS copies the requisite information into her own omnipresent notebook. She pauses a moment in thought, considering how best to delegate the morning's tasks._

HAVERS  
Right. Let's head over to the college. Before we go any further, I want a proper chat with Gareth – while you make inquiries 'round the campus. Discreet, mind you: as far as the school's concerned, you're trying to track Megan down because of what happened to her mum – not so much as a whisper about missing persons or Megan as a potential suspect.

WINSTON  
_(dryly)  
_You don't reckon they'll cotton on when they learn I'm from the Met?

HAVERS  
It'll be common knowledge soon enough; for now, downplay the investigation as much as possible. The last thing we both need is panic in the streets of Southgate.

_Her mobile rings, startling her, and she hurriedly retrieves it from her coat pocket to answer:_

HAVERS  
Sir?

_The concern on her face is plain to see._

HAVERS, CONT.  
How'd it go?

**CUT to EXT. CHELSEA. OFFICE BUILDING. MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY is talking on his mobile as he walks out of a snug brick office building, blanketed on one side by a lush fall of ivy. Though his complexion is still a trifle ashy, his features exhibit marked relief._

LYNLEY  
That depends – on how much you're looking forward to supervising me.

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
_(in disbelief)  
_You were demoted?

LYNLEY, O.S.  
Not yet.

HAVERS  
_(deducing aloud)  
_Disciplinary board, then?

**CUT to EXT. CHELSEA. OFFICE BUILDING. MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY hesitates a moment before answering. When he does speak, he sounds almost surprised at his own admission._

LYNLEY  
No. Not that it's isn't still a possibility, of course, but –

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
_(growing impatient with anxiety)  
_Then what?

**CUT to EXT. CHELSEA. OFFICE BUILDING. MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY chases an expression of feigned brightness onto his face and almost manages to sound enthusiastic._

LYNLEY  
I've been assigned to help you with the Hanover case.

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS stops short at this declaration._

HAVERS  
To help…what, as in – ?

**CUT to EXT. CHELSEA. OFFICE BUILDING. MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
Background, basically – the sort of tedious tasks you're probably giving to Winston.

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY, O.S.  
Apparently, I'm to tag at your heels till Hillier's determined a fit punishment.

_HAVERS smiles a little at this._

HAVERS  
I'd've thought tagging at my heels was punishment enough, sir.

**CUT to EXT. CHELSEA. OFFICE BUILDING. MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY arrives at the Bristol but lingers outside it for a moment to continue the conversation._

LYNLEY  
It's something to do with my perceived degree of misery, I believe – as long as I appear to be in hell, Hillier will be satisfied.

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
So…can't I just assign you to stay home for a few days and get your bearings – ?

**CUT to EXT. CHELSEA. OFFICE BUILDING. MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
No.

_Too aware of the undue sharpness in his tone, he endeavors to amend:_

LYNLEY, CONT.  
That is –

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
No worries. How about: an extremely low-profile call to Lancashire to track down our victim's parents?

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR. MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY, now sitting in the Bristol with the driver's side door open, produces a pen and paper from the glove box._

LYNLEY  
I'm listening.

HAVERS, O.S.  
Nigel and Christa Hanover; they live in Preston.

_He quickly transcribes the details as HAVERS relays them._

HAVERS, O.S.  
Their other daughter, Elinor, lives in Islington; Winston and I are heading in her direction in a bit.

LYNLEY  
Anything I should know about the murder?

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
_(thinking aloud)  
_Um…Julia was in her mid-thirties, attractive single mum, ran an antiques shop in Southgate. She was strangled last night in the kitchen of her home; there's no sign of the weapon as yet, but the ligature mark suggests thin rope or maybe a chain. There were two 999 hangups made in the half-hour before the daughter's boyfriend found the body, around half-nine. Also, the daughter, Megan Hanover, appears to have gone missing.

LYNLEY, O.S.  
How old?

HAVERS  
Just started at college so…eighteen, maybe?

_She frowns at the thought, perhaps not having realized before this moment how young a mother JULIA would have been._

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR. MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS, O.S.  
Had a row with the boyfriend a few hours before her mum was murdered, after which she apparently dropped off the radar.

_LYNLEY looks up from his notes, considering._

HAVERS, O.S., CONT.  
I'm off to get the boyfriend's full story, but it wouldn't hurt to ask Lancashire to keep an eye out. If Megan witnessed the murder, she might be running scared, and grandparents in Preston are as safe a haven as you can get – not to mention, she and her mum lived with them till about six months ago.

_LYNLEY incorporates this last tidbit into his scrap of notes._

LYNLEY  
Fair enough. I'll ring you once they're on their way, and we can coordinate the ID with the sister. Any marching orders for the meantime?

HAVERS, O.S.  
Coffee sounds great.

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

_HAVERS grins._

HAVERS  
Only kidding, sir, let me think…

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR. MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
I could do coffee.

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
_(conceding)  
_Southgate's a bit back of beyond, tell the truth. I wouldn't say no.

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR. MID-MORNING.**

_LYNLEY cracks a genuine smile at that._

HAVERS, O.S.  
Seriously, though: see what you can find on Julia and Megan before they moved to London. Why Southgate? Were they running away from something - ?

LYNLEY  
_(supplying for her)  
_Or _toward_ something?

_He pockets his notes and a comfortable silence falls between them._

LYNLEY, CONT.  
You were never going to tell me, were you?

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

HAVERS  
_(genuinely confused)  
_Tell you what, sir?

**CUT to INT. LYNLEY'S CAR. MID-MORNING.**

LYNLEY  
Exactly. I'll talk to you soon.

_He ends the call and drops his mobile into a jacket pocket._

**CUT to EXT. JULIA'S HOUSE – MID-MORNING.**

_An utterly bewildered HAVERS returns her mobile to her pocket and hurries to catch up with WINSTON, who is waiting ahead beside the passenger door of her Mini._

**Author's Note: **And this is where I leave you for a short bit while I catch up on my Jalex fic! Are the Lynley/Havers shippers coming round to forgiving me yet? :D Would love any and all feedback! (By the bye, Tom won't be sitting comatose at Chez Lynley much longer!)


End file.
